


Boxed Memories

by MarvelousMaam



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Barnes is a brick shit-house, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes loves his sweet new ride, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Pre-Infinity War, Romance, SO MUCH FLUFF, Some Humor, Tony being extra, and it sure as hell ain't a VW, in the car that is no VW, just the slightest bit of Angst, sexy times mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 08:08:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14950863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarvelousMaam/pseuds/MarvelousMaam
Summary: Winner picks date night activity and this time Bucky's asked you to meet him at a rather weird location right in the heart of Brooklyn.It's fluffy, it's kinda romantic, kinda funny (because Buck loves to make ya laugh) and for all ya dirty minded peeps there's some clear-cut sexual innuendos. Also features Bucky in his hot new ride and he'll give you a ride, too. :D





	Boxed Memories

The Avengers Tower stands out prominently in the night sky, even here on the other side of East River, I muse while making my way through the still bustling streets of NYC. It’s 1 a.m. and the building is lit even brighter than usual - sure Christmas time is approaching fast but in my book Tony Stark has the most prominent god complex ever known to mankind and I told him so, several times… the arrogant git would only laugh at me.

I try the best I can to blend into my surroundings, keeping to the shadows as not to attract any attention to my face, not to speak of the small “treasure” hidden beneath the large jacket I’ve put on. My hair falls into my face and creates a veil that should disguise my features perfectly

I grit my teeth in displeasure as I feel the burn of blisters on my feet. I really shouldn’t have put on my brand new boots for a walk this long - on the other hand it may safe me trouble in the future.

Only another twenty minutes walk and I should arrive at my destination.

Oh the struggle I go through for this man… on a normal Sunday night I wouldn’t find myself in this predicament but in my rooms, watching a movie, drinking the bottle of wine that I now carry through half of New York. Puffing out another deep breath of frustration I turn sharply to the left and wander along a darkened alley. Surely not the best place to be in the middle of the night but honestly what is supposed to happen that could truly put me in grave danger? I’m quite capable of kicking butts myself, I don’t need my boyfriend or anyone else to take on my fights. In any case I wouldn’t mind to roughen up some idiots and turn up a little late (with a good reason of course) to the most weird date of history.

A rat suddenly darts across my path and I stumble, honestly revulsed. Thankfully our meeting point draws nearer and nearer, after all I may be in need of a little protection if there’s more of these beasts around here.

Another few turned corners and I find myself on a back road, lined by a copious amount of buildings not having seen a new coat of paint for at least a hundred years… okay I’m probably exaggerating but who would have thought that there’s such a decrepit area to be found in the middle of Brooklyn? Certainly not me… but I’m not from around here so what do I know…

Another few steps and I lower my guard, stepping into the lighted areas of the street in search for my date. He hadn’t told me where to go exactly, only the street name and I wonder if he even knows where he wants to go himself. Not that he’s an idiot but his memory certainly isn’t the best.

“It’s not his fault!” I whisper to myself and then out of nowhere, suddenly an arm wraps around my middle and I leave all caution be, turning around sideways as to not give my attacker the chance of putting me into a headlock. I feel the bottle slip from my grasp and tumble to the floor and in a fraction of a moment I bend to catch it, forgetting about the assailant and meeting his chest face forward.

“Ouch, damn it!” I cry but victory floods my system as my fingers have grasped the bottleneck, preserving the precious alcohol from being spilled on the ground.

“Easy, doll!” the brick wall in my face rumbles in a hushed voice and I sigh in relief.

“Barnes, there’s people who have died from heart attack at a much younger age than mine!”

My hand goes out to push my index finger into his abdomen and looking up, I find myself confronted with his shit eating grin, watching it crumble as he snorts in amusement.

His hands extend to straighten me up.

“Whatcha got there?” he asks playfully and grabs the bottle with his right, while the heavy metallic feel of his left doesn’t leave my waist.

I can practically feel the blush rising up my cheeks, finding myself flush to his larger form.

“Really now? You brought your sunday evening wine? Swell…” he ridicules me.

“Well, if I ain’t drinkin’ it this evening, it aien’t a sunday evening wine anymore but a monday evening wine. That won’t work for me!” I say, shaking my head in exasperation, as if he should have known as much. Another snort escapes him.

“Technically…” he begins, but my index finger finds his lips this time, to shush him. Effectively, I might add.

“Don’t say it! I’m very much aware of the time.” I crunch my eyebrows and wrinkle my nose.

“Why did you want to meet in this god forsaken place anyway? And at this time?” I ask, looking around the backstreet in confusion but his facial expression tells me that he won’t answer my questions yet.

Holding on to the bottle, he grabs my right with his left, as careful as any other day to not hurt me with it and tugs me into the direction of on of the deserted houses.

“I didn’t want to come here by myself!” I hear him mumble quietly and I’m not so sure that he even intended for me to hear. It does seem to be of importance to him, so I don’t hesitate to follow his lead and keep further protests to myself.

“Your rules, woman! Winner’s gotta pick date night activity! It’s not as if I’m dragging you off to some underground joint, no worries.” He explains as we reach a narrow stairwell leading up to a door which looks like it’s been broken into several times already and been repaired poorly.

“It’s unfair at any rate, you always win every sparring match!” I exclaim, feeling slightly frustrated at his resulting chuckle.

“But you never say no either, so I will just assume you like getting pounded into the mat by dear ol’ me.” His nasty grin leaves little to the imagination as to where his thoughts are headed.

“Oh, stop it you! Don’t you crush my hopes! One of these days you’ll find yourself at the bottom.” I grumble, fully aware of the widening of his grin at the implication.

“Sure, doll!”

He leads me up the stairs and then lets my hand fall in favor of administering a hard blow to the doorknob which gives way immediately under the powerful strike.

“Sure, doll!” he repeats and grabs my hand again, grinning at me over his shoulder. If he wasn’t such a cocky bastard sometimes, I would have swooned at the boyish look of giddiness washing over his face. In moments like these he looks so carefree.

I squint to adjust my eyes to the darkness that awaits us inside the building and feel overwhelmed by the smell of dust and mould. Stifling a cough I try to read the expressions flitting over my companions face. Sadness and grief are the foremost emotions I can make out and I feel the metal of his hand grab mine a little tighter than usual.

Realization dawns to me.

“This was your family’s, no?” I ask and step closer to him. He nods.

“I was surprised when Steve told me that this street hasn’t changed at all since back then.”

His voice breaks a little but before I can wrap myself around him in a hug he steps forward, his super soldier eyes apparently already adjusted to the dark.

“Careful where you step! Just follow my lead!” He’s already fought down the emerging emotions and sounds resolute.

His determined stride takes us to another set of stairs, these leading up to the second floor where the smell of mould intensifies.

“It seems someone bought out all of these estates during the early 1950s.” He whispers now and opens a wooden door to his right.

The room we enter is small and lacks all furniture, just as the rest of the place. He stops right in the middle and lets my hand fall once more, turning around himself, as if in wonder.

“Now let’s see…” His murmur rips me out of my reverie and he pushes the wine bottle into my hands. I follow the contour of his frame with my eyes as he crosses the room and drops to his knees on the other side.

The scraping of his fingernails and metal upon wood breaks the silence, before he cries out in something akin to joy.

“What is it?” I ask but he doesn’t answer, only lifts a floor board and grasps for something in the small space beneath.

“There it is!” he’s clearly happy and gets up from his kneeling position, holding a medium sized, square box in his hands as he turns around. In the darkness I’m not sure but I hope it’s a smile I vaguely register on his features.

“Let’s get outta ‘ere!” his voice sounds ecstatic and this time his right hand grabs for my left. Just a few moments later we find ourselves outside again and he drops to sit on the stairs, dragging me with him.

“Wait…” he suddenly turns towards me, as I sit down next to him and his eyebrows crunch.

“…did you walk here from the tower?” his eyes hold disbelief and I’m surprised at the out of place question.

“Course I did! You told me to, remember?” I wrinkle my nose and feel my hurting feet for the first time since I stepped into the street lamp’s light.

“I never said you couldn’t take a cab… I just asked you not to drive…oh!” he exclaims and than laughter fills the peaceful night air, his eyes close in glee and his head falls back.

“Will you stop laughing at me?” I reply and my eyes sweep our surroundings, in fear of getting caught while clearly having broke into the house looming in our backs.

“You also told me to make sure that no one followed me!” I try to argue and watch as his amused gaze drifts back to my face.

The box he’s holding clanks in his hands and I wonder what’s inside the shoe carton sized case.

“Just a few minutes ago, we broke into that house” my thumb points backwards, “and now you’re telling me I should have taken a cab here and let the driver watch?”

“I didn’t want to cause a scene. Besides, it’s no crime if you got the landlord’s okay, right?” he’s clearly delighted by my honest attempt to follow his wishes.

“What?” I cannot keep from screeching. “Who?”

“Stark!” his answer is short and lies heavy in the crisp air, as he shrugs.

“It was his father who bought all this,” he gestures around us, “that was the building Steve and his ma lived in before war, right over there!” the metal of his index finger glints as my eyes make out a shabby building a short distance away, at the end of the lane.

“Maybe he wanted to preserve something special to Steve, I don’t know… but in the process he did me a huge favor. And his son… well let’s just say that he wasn’t even aware that he owns the place until I asked him for a key. It goes without saying that he doesn't have one.” His hand returns to his lap and strokes over the box, almost caressing it. I nod in apprehension and cannot contain my curiosity.

“So… what’s inside?”

He sighs deeply and his eyes close again, this time clearly in annoyance.

“I don’t know! I only remembered a while ago that I hid something important to me, the evening before taking off to England.”

“Are you ready? To find out what it is, I mean.”

My left hand finds his jeans-clad thigh and I rub soothing circles with my finger tips.

“Are you ready to open that bottle of wine and share?” he smirks right at me and his eyesglimmer.

“Sure am. You gotta a corkscrew integrated?” I try to mess with him but he only raises an eyebrow and I grumble as I admit “It’s gotta flip-top!”

Drawing my hand from his thigh, he emits a grunt and I open the bottle, taking a swift gulp of the red wine before thrusting it into his waiting hand.

“It’s not like it has much of an effect on you, you know that, right?” I ask him and he nods, swallowing once… twice… thrice…

“Hey!” I fumble to wrestle the bottle out of his grasp. “Leave something for me!”

One more gulp and he puts it down.

“S’ry, feelin’ a little tizzy ‘ere!” his genuine smile has me sighing in defeat and once again swooning… almost.

With the bottle sitting in front of our feet on the pavement, he’s scrutinizing the box once again, huffing a deep breath and then hastily pushes open the lid.

Silence.

There’s not much I could say right now as I watch his eyes widen. I’m not even sure if I’m supposed to cheer or comfort him as the seconds tick by and his hand remains in mid air, not daring to take the small bunch of photographs and memorabilia out of their confines.

“Bucky?” I ask and my hand finds his thigh one more time.

He only smiles ruefully before reaching out for the upmost photograph. It’s a grainy, black and white picture, the size of a postcard.

“I remember that day!” he sounds astounded as the new (or is it old) information burns into his brain again.

There’s not much to see on the picture, besides a sickly, miniature sized version of Steve Rogers and…

“Attaboy!” I blurt, “You look so cute!”

“’twas Steve’s ninth birthday! We had fun that day, went to Coney Island and rode that brand new roller coaster which had opened just a few days earlier. Stevie threw up all over his shoes after the ride.”

I can practically hear the tears that are threatening to fall from his eyes.

“Very handsome, hot shot. You were a ladies man, even at this tender age, weren’t you?”

His chuckle vibrates through his whole body and it’s full of pure joy.

“‘Course, toots! I grew up with four sisters.” He winks at me and I feel heat creep up my cheeks, as I nudge him with my elbow playfully. His eyes glance back into the depth of the small box and he flips through some postcards, a few hand written notes and more photographs before he stops again to fetch another picture. It’s not all that different from the first one, really. The quality of the photograph is better and it clearly shows the same two people. Steve, still skinny and sickly has grown if only little but my eyes bulge at seeing the man, in his early twenties with a smooth as fuck grin, his broad shoulders squared proudly and a hand resting on his best friend’s smaller frame, trying to push him to the front of the capture.

“Hot damn!”

Before seeing it, I feel him next to me straightening up proudly and I realize that I don’t mind my hurting feet anymore nor stroking his ego a little bit, as long as I’ve contributed to his happiness.

“Told ya!” he announces smugly, satisfied with my reaction.

“You’re aware that you do not look that much different now, right?” I can’t help but ask bashfully and smile as his smirk falters and turns into a beaming smile.

“Not even a little wiser?” he asks as the picture falls back into the heap of memories and his arm extends around my frame comfortably.

“Maybe a little!” I declare and settle to lean into him.  
“So…” he hesitates, “you wouldn’t mind this ladies man giving you a ride home then, I assume?”

“I can assure you that I will even invite this handsome fella into my quarters and if he behaves… maybe even into my bed.”

He laughs loudly.

“That’s good, it being my bed, too, love.”

He bends down, kisses my forehead and as I close my eyes in relaxation, I hear him close the lid of the box.

“Where were you this evening, anyway?” I murmur as I feel him getting up.

In front of my face I find his extended hand, ready to help me up and I grab it, flinching and stumbling a little as a blister on my foot pops. I contemplate taking the wine along but leave it.

He shrugs, in contempt and leads me a little way down the street, straight up to a gleaming vintage car, parked in the shadows.

“You cannot be serious, James Barnes!” I cry out, my eyes growing huge.

“Oy, woman, lay off, not everyone likes those bulky SUVs. It’s a classic: a 1947 Cadillac Series 62.”

He walks me around the shiny, spotless, cherry red vehicle and holds the door for me open. The innocent grin has returned to his face as he observes me getting in and I can’t help but smile, trying to hide it behind my hand.

“A HA!” he rejoices and closes the door softly.

“I knew you’d love her, too! She’s murder, aien’t she?” He asks softly as he glides behind the steering wheel, stroking the leather before he starts the rumbling motor.

“’twas one of the things I remembered after we first met, you know. That dream of taking my sweet gal out in my sweet ride, just like one of those ritzy high society kids. Never thought it possible though! ‘Course you gotta dream at rack time, keeps ya sane when there’s all these horrible sounds and the stench.” He’s obviously recalling events from long ago as we speed through the night, his nose scrunches.

“But it’s even old for an oldtimer, Bucky!” I reply weakly and watch as he eyes me incredulously before his tense face breaks out into a smile again and he snickers.

“You’re one to badmouth, you’re sleeping with war memorabilia, doll.”

…

“The backseat’s quite spacious!” He tells me deadly serious.

I choke but to no avail as l cannot contain the laughter anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> There ya go. It's a late christmas present... or maybe I'm early?  
> Gods, I wrote this over half a year ago and just forgot about it...
> 
> As always: this is not Infinity War compliant and I don't care. Also I base my information solely on the MCU... last Marvel comic I bought over ten years ago. Goodness... that's been long, too...
> 
> Hope you enjoy it. Any form of appreciation is welcomed.  
> Comments, Kudos... you name it!
> 
> xoxo, MM


End file.
